


Shape of my Heart

by IseliaDragonwill



Series: Where There Is Light [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Gambling, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IseliaDragonwill/pseuds/IseliaDragonwill
Summary: "Some say the king got sick and died.""Well I heard he went mad.""All I know is that the king is dead."The King is dead. Long live the King.A story of what happened to the man left behind, forced to pledge his allegiance to a new king. One should not fear death, for it is only the beginning.





	Shape of my Heart

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I need to get this done before Episode Ardyn comes out or I'm going to be mad when this entire idea is proven wrong. You are all free to bug me on the internet and make sure I'm writing the damn thing.
> 
> Second! Sometimes ideas just strike in the weirdest places. I was listening to a classic rock playlist, when a certain song came on and this entire fic just popped into my head. You can probably guess which song it is and there's a pretty specific reference in the story. Curious to know if anyone else will listen to that song in a new light now. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are love. <3 And away we go!

If there was one thing that could be counted on from taverns, it was the prospect of information. Anything a man needed to know could be gleaned from the right person, for the right price. So, to the tavern he went, night after night, hoping against hope to find the what he sought on the drunken lips of travelers and mercenaries. 

Sitting around a table of rotted wood, pocked and worn by years of rowdy patrons and spilled drink, a man deals the cards and takes a swig of beer from a dented pewter stein. Coins are thrown down, a dagger, precious jewels, all for the taking. It’s too easy to win. Though he never thought much of counting cards until now, the allure of the gamble far from enticing in those far-off days of the past, it has now become a vital skill, one that he would hone much like his swordsmanship. Times have changed. He plays the cards for keeps and the stakes mean so much more.

Losing is not an option.

“Tell me what you know of the Reaper.” He keeps his hood pulled low, obscuring his face from prying eyes.

The bandit leans back in his chair, projecting nonchalance in a pitiful attempt to cover his rising suspicions and fear. “Can’t say I know much, only rumors.”

“Has it been sighted?” 

“Not for a few weeks. Last I heard, it popped up back in Longwythe.” His next words have his voice near trembling, as if recalling some terror better left forgotten. “Somehow...everyone survived.” 

He stiffens, fingers pressing into the table. The bandit’s voice betrays that he’s hiding something. Rumors alone did not usually provoke such a reaction–he had _been_ there. “And then?” 

“Look, I swear that’s all I know.”

He sighed and stood, motioning to the small pile of riches amongst the empty glasses and scattered cards. “Keep the winnings. I have no need of them.”

“Huh? You sure?” Before he could think to question why anyone would ask about that _thing_ , much less give up the spoils of a hard-earned victory, he felt a cool breeze on his skin and found the space beside him empty. “Hey wait!”

But the man was already gone like a specter in the night.

 

The night air was cold as he approached the camp, a small cluster of tents dotting the hillside in the distance. From here, he could see torches staked in the ground, forming a flickering perimeter of flame, protecting the soldiers sleeping within. A larger fire burned at one end, plumes of smoke rising and blotting out the stars that shone above. As much as he couldn’t bear to look at them, to see them smothered in ashy black, their fragile light dampened, made his heart ache.

Symbols of a happier past, now denied. 

_“They’re beautiful, don’t you think Gil?”_

_The scent of earth, still damp from an afternoon shower. Tinder snapping and popping as embers danced above the flames. Crickets. Long grass rustling in the breeze. That dark, rich expanse of sky, beset by twinkling points of light. Beautiful, yes. But…_

_“Gil?”_

_Hands wandering, gathering him closer and closer. The heat of skin at every point where fabric slipped from shoulders, from hips. Eyes curious, questioning how far this would go and urging, teasing, wanting more. A pair of lips, pouting, resisting a smile as they were once more claimed, parted by a seeking tongue and that familiar feeling of falling...falling…_

_‘They can never compare to you.’_

...Had it only been a month?

As he entered the camp, relieving the soldier on duty of watch, Gilgamesh sat himself down at the long bench in front of the campfire. Nothing about this was right. The wilderness outside of Insomnia had belonged to him and Ardyn alone, a secret kingdom of their own making where none would chastise them. A place where they could love freely under the cover of stars. 

Now it had been tainted by soldiers and arms and blood. By rumors of a shadowy creature stalking the countryside–the one the people called The Reaper–cutting down whoever stood in its way. Somnus had been right to lead a small contingent of soldiers to investigate and Gilgamesh knew this. He also knew it only made sense that he take up the mantle of Shield to Somnus and follow in his stead, keeping him safe from this new danger. The Founder King. The great uniter of the lands of Lucis.

But it was on nights like this that a voice whispered to him from the corners of his mind that he no longer dared visit. And the voice made him wonder if maybe Somnus had more of an unknowing hand in this than he realized. Ever since that day... 

That day. The memories of that day still haunted him. Ardyn had emerged from the Crystal's chamber after an extended period of meditation and prayer, but not as the man that had entered days prior. Gilgamesh had seen the effects of the scourge slowly pervading his body, but this was something else entirely; something he found himself wholly unprepared for. 

His flesh was split open and burned, wounds pulsing with the remnants of magic that had ripped through him from within as they escaped their mortal host. Ichor oozed through the cracks left behind in lieu of blood. Even his eyes–a once beautiful amber that had gazed at him with warmth and unmasked affection–shone bright yellow and cold in the dim light of the room outside the Crystal’s chamber, accentuated by sclera gone black as pitch. Gilgamesh found himself paralyzed, wondering how Ardyn was alive and what he had become.

“Gil?” Ardyn had called out for him, desperate and wracked with pain. An unearthly rasp had sunk its teeth into his once honeyed tone, tearing to pieces what was left of that confident, almost cocky lilt. But before he could go to Ardyn’s side, crossed swords had blocked his path. Somnus’s men had surrounded Ardyn, tied him down while he thrashed and bared his teeth, feral in his resistance. The sounds he had made...Gilgamesh shuddered, in spite of the heat rolling off the fire before him. 

He would never forget the sounds that came from Ardyn for as long as he lived. They were like something inhuman, bringing Gilgamesh within a hair of fear of the man he trusted with his very life.

Somnus had stood between them glowering down at his older brother. “So, the Crystal has rejected you. Reduced you to a sniveling shadow of what you once were.” He strode to Ardyn. “You're not fit to rule like this. I won't allow it.”

“Somnus!” 

“Enough. It's for the good of the people.” He turned to his men. Behind his facade, a triumphant grin peeked through–fleeting, but maliciously present. In that moment, Gilgamesh knew that Ardyn would never be safe in this place again. “Lock him up.” 

Wild-eyed and afraid, Ardyn had looked to Gilgamesh, pleading. “Gil please!”

“Let him go, Somnus. Leave him in my care until this passes.” He set his mouth in a hard line, staring Somnus down like he would any enemy on the battlefield. It was all he had left to fight with, powerless in this land as he was. Any sense of standing he had by Ardyn was of no use in this fight, only his own hard-forged air of dominance remained.

Somnus was unfazed by it. 

“So you can become infected as well? No. I'll not let a perfectly good warrior go to waste. You will serve me for the time being.” He raised his chin, arrogance painting his features. A subtle taunt. “Should that not be to your liking, I’m sure we can find a cell for you. Treason to the crown comes with a hefty punishment. Consider carefully.” 

He couldn't show the revulsion he felt. It would endanger him and Ardyn both. “You must promise me that no harm will come to him.” 

“He will be taken care of.”

Gilgamesh met Ardyn's eyes, trying to convey with every fiber of his being how much he wanted to refuse, how much he feared for what would become of them if he didn't. 

Nothing could mask the hurt and betrayal in Ardyn’s eyes as he lowered his gaze to the ground, a white tooth drawing tainted blood from his lower lip. Gilgamesh wanted nothing more than to go to him, take his hand and tell him it would be all right. They would leave this place, forsake the gods as they had done him, roam the countryside while they searched for a way to free him of his curse. 

He would have said all those things and more, but the guards dragged Ardyn away like an unwanted doll, torn at the seams and cast aside. The air around him hung heavy not with acceptance, but defeat. 

And Gilgamesh felt something in him break.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://iseliadragonwill.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/FallenIsel)!
> 
> I'm not as active on Tumblr anymore because of the "adult content" fiasco, but I'm on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/iseliadragonwill) now!


End file.
